The rain lashed violently against the floor-to-ceiling glass doors of the Manhattan Grand Ballroom terrace. Outside, standing completely unbothered by the damp sea breeze, was Arthur—the head of personal security for the Cross family.

Victoria Vance stepped forward, her face twisted in confusion and anger. "Don Cross, there must be a mistake! This woman is clearly a liar! She’s probably a gold-digger who tricked you—"

SLAP!

Victoria’s mother, standing right beside her, violently slapped her own daughter across the face!

"Shut your mouth, Victoria!" her mother hissed, trembling in terror. "That is Donnessa Hannah Cross! She owns fifty-one percent of the Manhattan Trust!"

Victoria gasped, clutching her red cheek, her eyes wide with horror.

Trevor’s cell phone suddenly began to buzz frantically in his pocket.

Then it rang again. And again. And again.

Panicking, Trevor pulled out his phone. The screen was flooded with fifty emergency alerts, red stock drops, and frantic text messages from his board of directors:

URGENT: BROOKLYN MARITIME HAS TERMINATED ALL SHIPPING PERMITS! ALERT: MANHATTAN NATIONAL HAS FROZEN LANGLEY LOGISTICS CREDIT! CRITICAL: SEC HAS ISSUED AN ARREST WARRANT FOR TAX FRAUD! STOCK CRASH: LANGLEY SHARES DROPPED 85% IN THREE MINUTES!

"No... no, no, no!" Trevor whimpered, dropping his phone onto the marble floor. It cracked right next to the shattered champagne glass. "My company... my fortune... it’s all gone!"

He looked up at Alexander with desperate, tear-filled eyes.

"Don Cross! Please! I didn't know!" Trevor fell to his knees, clutching his hands together in a frantic plea. "I swear I didn't know she was married to you! We have history! She loved me once!"

Alexander took a slow step forward, towering over the kneeling man.

"You left her beside her dying father because your mother threatened your allowance," Alexander revealed, his low voice echoing clearly through the silent ballroom. "You let a good man die in debt while you drank scotch on your family's yacht."

"I was young! I made a mistake!" Trevor sobbed.

"You made a choice," Alexander corrected coldly. "And tonight, the interest on that debt is due."

Alexander turned to Arthur. "Take Mr. Langley to the holding docks in Red Hook. Stripped of his assets, stripped of his name. Let him work double shifts on the fish-packing line for twenty-two dollars an hour—until his father's medical debts are paid."

Two black-suited security guards grabbed Trevor by his armpits, dragging him screaming and kicking out of the ballroom!